


you blow me away

by saunatonttu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, post seijou and wakusomething matches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga decides to reward Daichi for making it back to the court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you blow me away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sizhu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sizhu/gifts).



> dont kill me for the title lmao  
> BUT ANYWAYS. MOMO YOU DID IT YOU SURVIVED THE SEMESTER. NEITHER OF US IS DEAD. SO HAVE SOME MEDIOCRE-WRITTEN BLOW JOBS LMAO

”Oh, Daichi,” Suga sighs as they make it to Daichi’s room, both exhausted from the matches but one noticeably more so. ”Maybe you shouldn’t have joined in, after all.”

”I’m fine,” Daichi says, voice clipped from weariness as he flops down onto his bed after dropping his volleyball gear in the corner of the room. Eyes closed, he listens to Suga shuffling about and those gentle sounds of footsteps. A thump follows; Suga has set down his bag.

”Sure looks like it,” Suga muses and laughs. It is definitely chastising, but Daichi revels in the sound regardless, his heart swelling with the youth of his emotion. There’s just something spectacular in the way Suga’s laughter that has seeped into the confined space in Daichi’s head, between all the volleyball and school related issues and events.

A space for Suga and Suga alone.

Maybe he _does_ have a concussion. The thought makes his lips curl up into a depreciating smile as he rubs at his eyes and ignores Suga sitting down on his legs.

He can’t ignore it for long, though. Suga’s not as light as he seems at first glance.

”You’re so weak,” Suga snorts when Daichi pulls himself up. This time, there’s a sinister glint in Suga’s eyes. ”Are you trying to say I’m heavy, Daichi?”

There’s only one answer to that question, but it doesn’t leave Daichi’s mouth quickly enough, and so Suga ends up pinching his arm. _Ouch_. Suga-pinches are always the worst, though Michimiya could give Suga a run for his money. Probably.

”I wasn’t saying anything of the sort,” Daichi grumbles, rubbing his arm before relocating his fingers to the side of his head. The headache has yet to go away, and his mouth is dry against the tip of his tongue. His muscles are even worse; he can still feel the impact, the lingering aches that aren’t all from the heat of the match against Wakutaniminami and the one following afterward, the decisive battle against Seijou.

Daichi feels so pleased he might just die on his bed. It must be the exact opposite for Oikawa Tooru, but Daichi doesn’t entertain that thought.

”Sure,” Suga snickers, his mouth twisting into a smile as he pats Daichi’s warm cheek. ”Your face speaks for itself.”

”I’m sure my face is just admiring yours.” Daichi grins, and the heat on his face increases, spreading to the slope of his nose. Maybe he does have a concussion, he thinks not for the first time as Suga leans over to press their lips together in a hushed kiss. They hadn’t had the chance post-Seijou match, and definitely not before what with the team flocking around Daichi to make sure he’s alright.

Daichi falls back down onto the mattress from the tender push of Suga’s hands. Looking up, Daichi finds Suga smiling in mischief, eyes twinkling with devilish delight at having Daichi wrapped around his little finger. Haha. Daichi’s so fucked.

”How’s your head?” Suga’s fingers flit over to Daichi’s temple, tips gently massaging as Suga’s head dips in, lips meeting Daichi’s for one brief moment. Sugar’s concern is a palpable thing, his fingers enunciating his feelings as much as his words and intonation do.

Daichi sometimes entertains the thought that maybe this could be eternal. Suga already feels like an eternity in a person.

”A little fuzzy,” Daichi admits with a short, embarrassed laugh as he drapes an arm behind Suga’s neck. ”I think it might’ve got something to do with you.”

”Now see, that’s a telltale sign you’re exhausted,” Suga laughs, taps his fingers against sides of Daichi’s face. ”Absolutely _bonkers_.”

”Oh God, don’t do the pretentious English accent, Suga.”

Suga grins, but switches quickly back to complete Japanese. ”Alright, captain. But before I forget...” Suga flutters his eyelashes.”Would you like something to reward your efforts today, Daichi?”

Oh dear.

 

*

 

The thing about Suga and Daichi is that it’s nowhere near as awkward as it should be. They’re teenagers. Silly misunderstanding and break-ups are expected, so he’s always been intimidated by his feelings for Suga and how strong they run -- it’s something that can end in a disaster, he used to think with the dramatic flare of a teenager. So afraid to ruin the good thing he has had with Suga for so long.

Suga’s the one that told him he’s an idiot. He can always trust Suga to tell him that -- ever so reliable both as a friend, boyfriend and a vice captain.

Daichi thinks he couldn’t have come as far as he had without Suga (and by extension, Asahi, that negative glass-heart).

He also thinks that this might be something close to love.

It’s too easy to accept that thought.

 

*

 

”Holy shit, Suga,” Daichi grunts, slapping a hand over his face to cover the flushed red that dusts his cheeks. His head spins for an entirely different reason than before. Fuck. Daichi closes his eyes, opens them again a second later, hands gripping Suga’s hair tightly.

Suga’s hum vibrates over Daichi’s sensitive skin. Even with a mouth full of dick, Suga manages to sound smug. Jesus. Even on his knees, Suga maintains his composure, eyes shining with their own light as they gauge Daichi’s reactions to the movements of the nimble tongue and mischievous lips.

Suga’s always been pretty good at goading reactions out of Daichi in these situations, and today’s no different: Daichi’s spluttering out words of encouragement or oddly keening moans laced with incoherency and pleasure. The only things he can’t quite get past his lips are the three words that have been dancing on his mind more frequently lately now that their third year is progressing, the end of high school looming closer like a dark cloud in horizon.

The rise of his cock isn’t affected by the vague uneasiness that the underlying thought of graduation brings him. Daichi feels himself swell between Suga’s lips that move slowly, tantalizingly, for the sake of driving Daichi mad. Wet tongue licks, Daichi’s cock trembles. Or maybe it’s not just Daichi’s cock. It’s suddenly hard to tell how much of him is shivering.

”Suga--” _Koushi, Koushi._

”Mmm.” Suga’s lips curl as he takes Daichi further into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. Diligent, but always aiming to tease. Daichi can’t muffle the loud groan that reverberates from his throat. At least his parents are still working, he thinks distantly as he shifts himself in Suga’s mouth, hips shaking from the coiling pleasure.

His pants and boxers have been pulled down to his ankles, and Daichi notices the bruises that have already formed on his legs. Suga’s hands rub at the sore spots gently and with a firm love that is not easy to find at their age.

Daichi feels himself leak into Suga’s mouth -- _precum_? -- and he whines in embarrassment, which in itself is frustrating, because Daichi does _not_ whine. Especially not in embarrassment, or that’s what he likes to think anyway, but there he is and there Suga is, sucking Daichi off both as a reward for coming back on court and as an attempt to ease Daichi’s senses from the soreness.

Suga’s lips are soft.

It’s not a new revelation, not even in this situation, but Daichi focuses on the kind caress of them rather than the burning want in his belly. _Fuck._

Suga withdraws for a moment to wipe his lips with the back of his hand, warm eyes turning blazing hot as they watch Daichi squirm and grumble Suga’s name.

”So hard, Daichi,” Suga teases, swallows whatever it is that’s in his mouth. ”Makes me want to leave you like this, you know?”

 _Oh god, you asshole,_ Daichi thinks. His glare speaks what his lips don’t.

Suga’s eyes soften. ”Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

It sounds like a promise for much more than just finishing a blow job.

 

*

 

Daichi ejaculates not too long after when Suga’s tongue plays with the underside of Daichi’s cock, semen spurting messily into Suga’s expecting mouth. Daichi’s head sinks, chin meeting his collarbone as he tries to find his breath. His head swims, dangerously light and fuzzy from the offered stimuli. His t-shirt is damp with sweat, and Daichi almost laughs at how he can see his nipples beneath. White shirts, man.

”You okay?” he asks Suga, who spits the semen out into a paper napkin. Suga’s face is red, too, but unlike Daichi, Suga’s face glows with the color instead of looking like he’s spent too much time out in the sun.

”Mmm, I should be asking that from you,” Suga says as he goes to take a breath mint from his bag. ”You look like you’re about to pass out, Daichi. Was I _that_ good?”

Daichi throws a pillow at him, but it never reaches Suga, who’s smiling behind his hand.

”I’m gonna take a shower before my parents come home,” Daichi decides, rolls his eyes at Suga before pulling up his pants and boxers. ”Don’t burn the house down.”

”I won’t make any promises!” Suga calls after him as his footsteps head towards the kitchen he has abused before, and Daichi can only smile with fondness exclusive to those truly in love.

 


End file.
